


Critical Mass

by Macx



Series: The Post War Arc [7]
Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 03:23:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ship full of Earth and Cybertronian delegates, a handful of terrorists and bombs set to go off combine into a deadly center of attention. The ACL brings in the heavy artillery to destroy the fragile connections blossoming between Earth and Cybertron again. They have no demands; they just want to blow the ship ......</p>
            </blockquote>





	Critical Mass

Two months ago

A strong wind whipped through the few trees standing and clouds rolled over the still brightly blue sky. Dead leaves and dust were carried with the wind, and in the distance thunder clouds gathered, rumbling ominously.   
He looked around, a thoughtful expression on his face. This was the world he lived in, his world, his planet. But no longer his alone, now shared by others, some giant metal robots. A dark shadow crossed his features and he stared up into the sky. Rain was beginning to fall, but it didn't bother him.   
Autobots. Decepticons. Cybertronians all of them.   
Once he had seen enemies in them, now they were nothing but fellow creatures. All had changed so abruptly..... A wry smile appeared at the corners of his lips.   
Turning he came fact to face with a man. He was dressed in fatigues, but his brown hair was slightly longer than standard army regulation allowed. Intense blue-gray eyes stared at him.   
"Have you decided, Sir?" he asked, adding the 'sir' with a slight sneer.   
He looked into the face of the man.  Once he had been a friend, now he was nothing but .... someone he didn't want to be associated with. So much had changed in the last years and he had seen it coming, slowly and surely, but he hadn't been able to stop it. The Anti-Cybertronian League had started as nothing more than a little club of those afraid of alien influence, but it had soon grown into a movement of enormous proportions, influencing people in high positions, turning them around to what was called The Cause. And The Cause was to remove every Cybertronian from Earth – and they had succeeded, though he didn't believe it had been the ACL doing it all on their own – though they prided themselves with it.   
It had been circumstances and weak and frightened politicians. Nothing more, nothing less.   
But the ACL was priding themselves with it and they were gaining power.   
He had been part of the ACL for most of his adult life, even raising his child to the believes of everything alien being bad and evil. It had been so wrong, he now saw. So deeply, deeply wrong. All his life wasted on these fanatics.   
The ACL had lost him when they had started to actively try and kill someone, a human, to kill a Cybertronian. He had been horrified when he had heard of it, even more when he had seen the pictures. No reasoning had helped.   
He had discovered that the group had gone over the edge. Once and for all.   
And he had quit.   
But they didn't leave him alone.   
"What you want to do is wrong," he now said.   
The man snarled. "Oh, yeah? I think what you did was wrong, Sir! Are you with us or are you against us?" he demanded.   
"You know the answer."   
The other one snorted. "Yes, I should have known better than to ask." He turned and walked away.   
Paul Russell watched the man disappear, then went back to watching the approaching storm. He had quit. He knew they'd never leave him alone, but he had quit. He could never erase what he had done wrong in the past and he could never go to the officials with what he knew – which the ACL knew quite clearly – but he was no longer a part of it.

*

"So he left us for good? Pity."   
The other one nodded. "What do you want me to do about it?"   
He smiled. "Nothing. I think I have just the right answer to his actions." When he saw the man's frown, his smile widened. "We are adding a name to the list of attendees. Someone who has a place in the conference room as well and no one will be suspicious as to why this certain person is there."   
The other's eyes narrowed, then he caught on to the train of thought. His smile was downright nasty. "I'll get right to it."

* * *

Now

"Somehow I doubt this was such a good idea."   
Daniel Witwicky, acting liaison of Cybertron to Earth, looked at the woman standing at his side, smiling slightly. He had to agree to these words because he felt the same. It wasn't a good idea, but it was necessary as a sign of good faith, as the will to really work on the problem.   
"Me neither," he said in a low voice, "but it's the only way. And if we keep insisting on our points and they keep insisting on theirs, you know what will happen."   
Catherine Lee Russell, Earth's evaluator on Cybertron, grimaced. "Don't get me wrong, but I somehow I wouldn't mind terribly much."   
Daniel chuckled. Russell had changed profoundly in the last two years. She had come to Cybertron as a delegate of Earth's ruling power, sent to evaluate the planet, write reports and statements, have a look at daily life. Daniel had immediately disliked her because she was an ice block on legs. She was a cold and emotionless personality – or so it had seemed. That there was an angry and highly xenophobic woman beneath these shields had only been revealed after she had Interfaced with F/X. And it had changed not only Cathy Lee, but also the perception of those around her of herself.   
Now she was with the small delegation of Cybertronians on their way to a conference that might be the first step in a new era of good relations to Earth. Daniel sighed. Well, everyone hoped it would result in this.   
Earth had cut all trade agreements and treaties with Cybertron shortly before the end of the Tji wars, afraid to be pulled into the battles Earth had claimed concerned only the Cybertronians. And after the heavy damage inflicted on Nebulos, Earth had been cowering in fear even more. Well, every argument had not helped and so the Council had decided to do just what Earth wanted: leave the planet. That had been nearly two decades ago.   
Now they had asked for this conference.   
Optimus had not been thrilled and Daniel and Arcee had spent countless hours working on a suitable agreement concerning where to meet. Finally it had come down to the Praddoxx, an old EDC heavy duty freighter, large enough to accommodate the only two Cybertronians coming aboard, Optimus Prime and Arcee, as well as the delegates from Earth, Daniel and Cathy Lee.   
Kup had spent more hours talking to Optimus about the danger of going there alone, though not unarmed, but the Autobot leader had finally said that this was a settled matter and that nothing would be changed. Any more Cybertronians and the conference would blow.   
"There she is," Cathy Lee now said, voice sounding ominous.   
The Autobot ship described a gentle arc and steered toward a massive, kind of cubic ship, about ten times as large as their ship, but also much slower. It was not moving, hanging in space like a dead whale. Its position was outside any territory, close to an abandoned research station in orbit around a dead world. Daniel heard the pilot ask for docking clearance and receiving a positive in return.   
"Well, no turning back now," he muttered.   
Cathy Lee smiled wryly. "Watch me."   
He grinned. "Hey, you are our ace in the sleeve, Ms. Russell. They still think you work for them and hate Cybertronians."   
Cathy Lee's face grew serious. "Yes, but I think they will soon pick up on my changing sides, if you want to put it this way."   
Daniel nodded. "They don't know yet and they don't know about your Interface. It might help us. Just behave normally." He smiled again.   
"You mean, act like the Ice Queen."   
He laughed. "Yeah."   
Cathy Lee smirked. "No problem."

* * *

The giant ship moved silently through the darkness of space, its outline faintly lit. It was a battle ship, sleek and of a slightly futuristic built. Her name was Apocalypse. The Apocalypse was one of two flag ships built by the Cybertronians throughout the Tji wars and like her sister ship, the Monolith, she had taken heavy damage in the final battle. It had taken a long time to repair her, mainly because supplies were sparse and the survival on the planet had taken priority to rebuilding the fleet. Now the Apocalypse was finally out of dry dock.   
Megatron stood close to the observation nose of the bridge, watching space, enjoying the smooth run. Originally the ship had been under the command of Shockwave, but Shockwave had been given a new task, something more fitting his experience and abilities: the construction of Below.   
The Apocalypse had spent the last few months of her stay in dry-dock in the hands of some techs, mainly because she was outfitted with the latest in technology. They had a brand new computer system, which was, following the engineers, the best and latest there was. Completely virus proved. Then they had reinforced the ship's hull and, while they were at it, they had reconstructed the observation nose. It was nothing vital for a battle, just a little extra.   
And they had a new reactor. The engine worked on a chemical basis, no longer using energon as the sole power source. It consisted of a two tanks, a reactor, which looked like a sponge, and a water tank. The water was a by-product of the reaction of the two chemicals in the other tanks, which also gave the engine its power. The whole machine took no more than one third of the original reactor's space, which left more room for storage, weapons and assorted other things.   
"The reactor is running smoothly," one of the crew man behind him now reported. "No problems."   
"The engineers are pleased with the output and ready to go to full speed whenever you are ready," Cyclonus said as he joined his leader at the observation nose.   
Megatron nodded. He knew that there was a bunch of engineers aft, checking the engine every now and then, hovering around it.   
"Do it," he simply said.   
Cyclonus turned to the crewmen manning the different stations.   
"Helm, Maneuvering, full speed ahead," he ordered.   
"Full speed ahead," the crewman manning Maneuvering confirmed and the Apocalypse increased speed.   
They were running with a minimal crew, since this was only a trial run which would be able to give the engineers a better impression of the improved flagship's operational features. Most of the crew was still at the dry dock or on Cybertron.   
The Apocalypse moved with increasing speed toward her first destination on this trial run.   
Megatron turned back to looking out of the observation nose, his mind busy with something that had been bothering him ever since he had heard of it: the meeting. He didn't like the idea and he had had some nasty encounters with Prime about it, arguing quite strongly against the Autobot leader going to this remote place without guards. Megatron didn't trust the humans. They had done their share of damage in the last decades, actively trying to kill his own people, even himself, and he would rather see them dead than anything else. He accepted the Interfaces and most of the humans on Cybertron, but only because he had to.   
His optics fixed on a point in space, burning with anger. Optimus was flying into a trap as far as he was concerned. Autobots! Too trusting even after decades of betrayal. Optimus wanted to see the good and so he saw it. Fool!   
Megatron hissed softly, knowing that in reality this wasn't true. Optimus Prime had changed a great deal from the Autobot he had last faced in the ruins of Autobot City. Still... some old traits had remained. Deep down inside.....   
He just hoped his suspicions wouldn't come true.

* * *

"They have docked."   
He watched the new-arrivals disappear into the corridor, accompanied by one of the diplomats. A small, cruel smile appeared on his thin lips.   
"The company is complete," he said into the handheld comlink. "Begin."

* * *

"Welcome aboard, Optimus Prime."   
The Autobot leader nodded at the diplomat greeting him. He knew the man. Kenneth Marshall, one of the few pro-Cybertronian politicians on Earth and a surprising addition to the corps of conference participants. They had met several times before in the last years and Marshall had always been a pleasant person to talk to. He had once even been assigned as a liaison, but this had been a short period only and Optimus had regretted his leaving. In this short time though, he had gotten to know Marshall as a quiet and calm person who could get his point across with even words and without raising his voice. When he was convinced of something, he would fight to the end without ever insulting or flinging loud words at his opponent. Optimus had to confess that this human was one of the few politicians he had become to like.   
"Thank you, Ken. I think you know Arcee and Daniel Witwicky already." Optimus gestured at his companions.   
Marshall nodded and turned to Cathy Lee. "And you must be Ms. Russell."   
Cathy, clad in her usual uniform-like dress, only smiled politely, but there was no warmth in it. Optimus had to smile behind his mask. He had gotten to know the copper-haired woman throughout the last months and it was amazing how different she could be when on official business or talking privately to someone she trusted or had started to trust.   
"Let me give you an overview of who is who," Marshall said as they walked down the corridor to the conference room. "Jennifer Benedic, lawyer. Top of her class. She comes from the bunch of lawyers who are handling contracts with aliens. She specialized in your culture's laws, Prime."   
"I see."   
"Then there is Thomas Moore. Watch him. He's not as innocent as he does. He's representing the business interests here. The other is Oliver McKnight. Old time ambassador. He worked on Cybertron for some time, then retired. He was requested to take part because of his knowledge of your world. His aid is a young woman named Hanna Josephs. Mind like a sponge. She has a photographic memory. Then we have Per Carlsson. He's a bit of an extremist. His view of certain topics sometimes collide with what the others think. He works without an aid. Watch him as well. He likes to provoke you. The others are mostly harmless. They are here because their respective parties sent them. General Hank X. Brighton is the EDC representative. Get him on your side and you have an ally."   
Prime nodded. "Thanks for the information, Ken."   
Marshall smiled. "I know how important this is, Optimus. That's why insisted on being part of it."   
"I appreciate it."   
The human smiled slightly, his voice growing softer. "A lot depends on this. I want this foolishness to end as much as you do. Earth, for all their euphoria concerning space travel and alien treaties, still need guidance. We are children with toys and those toys were given us by you. You tried to teach us and we said no after we took what we thought we could use. Granted, even I was scared by this war, but looking at it from all angles, what happened to Nebulos was an accident and would most likely not have happened to Earth." He sighed. "I think all of this would have come to a better end if the League had not gained such power. They wormed their way into our midst and now we are trying to extinguish them. Difficult."   
Optimus was not surprised by his friend's openness, but Cathy Lee was. Daniel only raised an eyebrow.   
"For an Earth delegate on such a crucial mission, you have rather interesting views," she now remarked levelly.   
Marshall smiled at her. "Well, Ms. Russell, they are my views. Everyone back on Earth knows them and though I constantly fight with fifty percent of the congress, they agreed to send me here. Maybe it's only so that the others can bash me and return home, declaring me an insane lunatic, but I will fight for my views nevertheless."   
They looked at each other and Optimus caught Russell actually smiling, though it wasn't more than a twitching of her mouth.   
Ken Marshall stopped in front of the conference room doors. "Well, people, let's start the music." He opened the doors.

* * *

The man was dressed in the standard EDC uniform. He was of a slim build, with brown hair and deep-set eyes. He was handsome in an off-beat way, high cheekbones and sharp features mixing into a kind of pleasant, slightly harmless way. No one paid him much attention. He was from the EDC. He entered one of the many quarters, those not used for this flight because the ship was not running with a full crew.   
The room was empty except for the standard furniture of a crew quarter. The man walked over to the wardrobe and opened it, taking out a non-descript bag. He carried it over to the bunk and carefully opened it. Removing five small, palm-sized devices, he began to unpack. Last he took out a cylinder, which he unscrewed and extracted several miniature timers, detonators and coils of thin, differently colored wires.   
Then he set to work.   
All over the ship, four men did exactly the same.

* * *

F/X sat in the day room and stared at the tiny energon cube. It was nothing more than a little snack but he didn't feel hungry. He felt disturbed, but he didn't know why. Nothing was wrong. It was a simple conference and Cathy Lee's attendance was nothing out of the ordinary. She was an Earth representative of a kind on Cybertron and though she had become his Interface partner, she had not resigned her position. She was stubborn in her opinion that she needed a job to earn her money to pay for everything, like quarters, food and electricity. F/X had patiently explained to her that being an Interface partner changed her position considerably.   
Cathy Lee had called it charity and that she wouldn't have it. Jeff, Kayla, Jill and Kyle had jobs as well and they earned money. That it wasn't solely for paying rents but because it gave them something to do aside from hanging around West Central had not worked as an argument. She was an independent person, not someone to accept what was given to her because she knew someone else. She never had.   
F/X sighed. Stubborn! Now she was doing her job, far away on some kind of remodeled freighter, and he was feeling increasingly itchy about it. Cathy hadn't been on the original list of attendees. Someone had called and asked her to come along as well, since she had been on Cybertron long enough to have some valuable input. She had had to agree. And he had started to feel unwell about it.   
"Hey, moody guy!"   
He looked up and smiled at Jazz. "Hi. What are you doing here?"   
"Looking for Overload. We wanted to head out for the C-Sector." Jazz shrugged. "Looks like he was caught up somewhere."   
"Tried the com link?"   
Jazz grimaced. "You know how bad it is with com links in Below. We're currently trying to work on getting the scramblers down. Lots of work. Whoever installed them, they did some good work." He gave F/X a closer look. "You okay, man?"   
"Yeah." F/X tossed the energon cube at him. "I just need to take a flight."   
Jazz watched him leave, wondering if Interfacing did this to you. Then he shrugged and left again.

* * *

The man in an EDC uniform approached the engine room with a black bag slung over one shoulder. He slid an ID card into the security slot and the access door opened automatically. Huge engine blocks throbbed and hummed softly. Metal ladders ran up into the maze of catwalks, support beams and pipes. The farther he walked into the engine room interior, the louder the humming became. The engine sound was nearly deafening at this point and he could hear two of the engineers shouting to one another before he could even see them.   
He kept out of sight and continued walking until he spotted what he was looking for. The emergency control board of the engines. He smiled, made sure he was alone, and started his work.

In another part of the freighter, a man dressed up in an EDC uniform as well, stood in the room labeled 'Life Support. Authorized Personnel Only'. He had unscrewed several covers from the banks of equipment, placing the small devices inside various openings, then screwing the panels shut again.

Another room, located a level down, said 'satellite and radio communication'. Someone had gained access with an authorized security card and had done the same here as the man in life support had. Now he was on his way back to his place.

* * *

Daniel leaned back, rubbing his eyes. "This," he muttered softly, "is Hell."   
Ken Marshall handed him a cup of coffee. "Welcome to it, Mr. Witwicky."   
"Daniel."   
Marshall nodded, accepting the small offer of friendship.   
"How can someone be so pigheaded?" Daniel asked, shaking his head.   
"That's Carlsson for you. He likes to be like this. Never saw him act any other way." Marshall shrugged and sipped at his Coke.   
The meeting had started five hours ago and Daniel felt like it were five days now. He didn't want to know what was going on behind Optimus Prime's face plate. The Autobot leader was nothing but calm, though firm, and polite. It was amazing. Daniel had learned this trick the hard way throughout the years of liaison or ambassador, as had Arcee. All sides were presenting their issues and it had taken three hours solely for setting up the preliminaries! Now, after another heated debate, they had called a break, and it was a necessary one.   
"You presented some valid points, son."   
Daniel looked up and met the smiling face of Oliver McKnight. The old ambassador had sat through most of the debating, smiling, nodding, now and then making notes. Daniel didn't know where to put him. He seemed to be rather pro-Earth but when he had spoken, his points had been pro-Cybertron.   
"Thank you, sir."   
McKnight chewed a bagel. "As did your friends." He nodded at Optimus and Arcee. "Keep up the pressure. It helps." He grinned and walked off again.   
Daniel shot Marshall a questioning look. The other man smiled and shrugged.   
They spent a few more minutes talking, then walked back into the conference center.   
"Round two," Cathy Lee muttered under her breath as Daniel sat down.   
He sighed. "Yeah. You ready to k.o. them?"   
She raised one delicate eyebrow. "Just watch my swing."

* * *

"We are done. Everything in place."   
"Good. Stand by." He looked at his watch. Everything was on time. "Begin phase one.... now!"

* * *

The EDC guard never had a chance. He saw one of his comrades walk toward him, nodded once as a greeting, and suddenly felt a shooting pain in his chest. Looking down he noticed a larger growing stain on his white uniform. He stared at his fellow crewman, seeing the small gun, struggling to comprehend. Then he crashed onto the floor, dead.   
"This is Green 5. All clear," the killer said calmly.

Several levels down, two more guards died as well. Two more calls of 'all clear' came in and the leader of the small group of terrorists smiled as he walked down the corridor to the conference center. He was accompanied by two of his men. The door was secured but no longer guarded. All working perfectly.   
He slit his security card through the access point and the doors opened with a hum.

* * *

F/X froze. His optics widened, the light intensifying, dimming, then brightening again. Voodoo, who had accompanied him down the hall, stared at him, bewildered.   
"F/X?"   
"No!"   
It was single word, whispered so low it was barely audible, but with an intensity that relayed the emotional pain.   
"What's wrong?" Voodoo asked, all of a sudden worried.   
F/X didn't answer him. He started running while simultaneously opening a com line. "Midnight, we got trouble!" he called. "I'm on the way to Rodimus' office!"   
"F/X? What the....?" Midnight's puzzled reply came from the tiny loudspeaker.   
"Just get there!" F/X cried, fear and worry warring with calm logic.   
Voodoo simply followed, mystified as to what was going on.

* * *

Optimus Prime looked down at the human. So small. So fragile. One flick of his hand would be able to kill this organic being, one false step could squash him, but the man held more power in one hand than he, the Autobot leader, had at the moment. The power to destroy them all.   
"Sit down!" the terrorist ordered and those standing did.   
"Who are you?" Marshall asked, voice quiet. "What do you want?"   
"Your liberation!" the terrorist declared. He smiled coldly. "You may call me Green One."   
"You are from the ACL," Benedic said, eyes narrowed.   
Green One smiled coldly.   
"This is madness," Daniel now joined in. "What do you think you can gain from holding us hostage?"   
The man looked at the Cybertronian liaison and his smile turned even colder. "More than you'll ever know, collaborator."   
"You can't win," Optimus told him quietly.   
"Oh, but we will, Autobot. We will." The man gestured at one of his helpers and he walked over to the intercom, softly talking into it. "We have the power and we will use it to show those misguided politicians that purity is the only way." His dark eyes held the blue gaze of the much larger Autobot leader. "And don't think we are afraid to die for our believes. We know no one gets out of this alive."   
Daniel's eyes widened almost imperceptibly and he glanced at Cathy Lee, who's expression was a frozen mask. "What do you mean?" he asked, feeling cold himself.   
"We are all gonna die, that's what I mean, collaborator." The terrorist chuckled. "There are bombs all over the ship, placed in strategic positions. You can never find them even if you overpower us, which won't happen. I know you Autobots are strong, but if you move one finger, your human friends are dead." His gun pointedly aimed at Daniel, who remained still. "I've set the bombs on a timer, which I'm activating ...now!"   
He pushed the button on the dark remote and a red light lit up. Benedic inhaled sharply, paling even more.   
"You are totally out of your mind!" Marshall hissed. "This will have consequences!"   
"Oh, yes, it will, because it will send those metal creatures into disorder, blaming you for the death of their leader, and it will destroy every ounce of trust you so painstakingly tried to rebuild. The League will have the necessary power of the people to separate Earth from alien influence once and for all!"   
Brighton fixed his hard eyes on the terrorist. "This will gain you nothing. It won't work."   
Green One only laughed.

* * *

Midnight stood as still as a statue, hands pressed flat-palmed on the table, head hanging down, optics fixed on the silvery table top. The room was quiet, except for the occasional soft creak or the breathing of the humans present. F/X sat silently on his chair, a faraway expression on his face.   
He was their link.   
Their only link.   
Finally Midnight raised his head, meeting the level blue optics of Rodimus Prime. "We have to get them out of there."   
Rodimus nodded. "I know. The question is how. I sent word to the EDC contact we have and he said he'd get back to me on that."   
"We can't wait for the humans to move," Tornado said coolly. "They might not even feel inclined to help."   
"They have their own people aboard this ship, Tornado," Rodimus reminded him. "And none of them is expendable. I read the attendee list. All high ranking officials. But I have to agree that we might be in deep trouble if we wait for them to move first. Any ideas, people?"

* * *

Cathy Lee listened to the leader of the kidnappers, face an unreadable mask, an impenetrable shield, while her mind was open and linked to F/X.   
<<They are totally crazy!>> F/X whispered, fear and anger mixing into his voice.   
<<I know>>   
She looked at the man and gave F/X an image of him. He'd have to look him up in the database. Maybe they had something on him.   
<<Rodimus called an emergency meeting. We're gonna do whatever is necessary to get you out. EDC has been informed as well>>   
Cathy Lee gave a mental nod, listening to the continuing ravings of the ACL terrorist.   
<<They have access to all the ship's functions>> she reported. <<Apparently the crew is dead and has already been replaced with their people. I bet the ship is on automatic though>>   
F/X agreed.   
"And because we want to keep incidents till then down to a minimum," the terrorist now said pleasantly. "I want you two robots to transform into your vehicle modes." He gestured with his gun. "Or one of those lucky humans here has the pleasure of dying before the big bang." His grin was more than simply nasty.   
Optimus Prime nodded at Arcee and both rose slowly from their chairs.   
"Over there," the man said and pointed to the other end of the room where there was enough place.   
Optimus and Arcee walked over and transformed, Optimus leaving his trailer in subspace.   
"Thank you," the leader grinned and then leaned back against the wall. "Now we'll wait."   
"What for?" Daniel wanted to know.   
"The media of course."   
Daniel frowned and Cathy Lee did the same, only on a more hidden basis. "If the media covers this, everyone will know hat the ACL blew up innocent people, even EDC officers. I don't think it will gain you publicity points.   
"Ah, but that's where you are wrong." The terrorist gave him a superior smile. "They won't ever know it was us."   
<<Hang on>> F/X sent. <<We are doing what we can>>   
Cathy briefly closed her eyes, feeling decidedly sick. <<Just hurry>> was all she whispered.

* * *

"Christopher Alvarez, 35, French. Active member of too many radical groups to count," Spike read.   
The picture on the screen showed the man F/X had seen in Cathy's mind. He was a bit younger on the photo, but it was definitely him.   
"Volatile personality, irrational but brilliant. Has been associated loosely with ACL for the past three years. Expert in small explosive devices and sabotage. Nice." Spike sighed. "So we got a mad man on that ship."   
Midnight's lips were a thin line and his aura was darker than usual, as was his skin color.   
"Okay, let's have a look at what else we have," Rodimus said and tiredly rubbed his forehead. "The ship is in the hand of League terrorists, led by an erratic radical. They have placed bombs, which are on a remote timer. The timer has been set off. The terrorists plan to blow the ship, but not just yet, but we know they are not interested in deals. Their aim is the destruction and death of everyone aboard. We don't know where the bombs are or what kind of bombs we are facing. All the delegates are held in the conference room, which is a former storage hangar and located next to the main cargo hold."   
Midnight nodded. "We have to get someone aboard the Praddoxx."   
"Maybe even more than one," Spike now entered the conversation. "One person might not be able to handle it all."   
"But before we discuss how many," Tornado said, "we have to find a way to get aboard. The terrorists monitor radar and every ship approaching can be seen."   
"True. Even if we could send in a cloaked Apocalypse..... getting someone from one big ship to the next would show up on short distance scanners." Rodimus sighed.   
"Couldn't we use the cloaking mechanism on one of the shuttles?" Spike asked. "Or on SkyLynx?"   
Midnight shook his head. "No. We could, yes, but reconfiguring the whole mechanism to fit a smaller body takes time and time we don't have."   
"How about Gating?" Wild Card spoke up.   
Everyone looked at him. Wild Card had listened to the whole conversation silently, a thoughtful frown on his face.   
"Gating....." Midnight now wore the same frown.   
"It might work," the other Sentinel went on. I can leave a Gate directly over the freighter and since I can time it so I'm just a few meters off the surface hull, they wouldn't register me."   
Rodimus frowned as well. "Tricky maneuver."   
"But possible."   
"Agreed. Midnight?"   
The Sentinel leader nodded slowly. "That would mean we could transport at least two people.... Jeff and someone else."   
"Wait a minute!" Rodimus protested. "No one said that any of the humans would go aboard!"   
Jeff, sitting on the window sill with Steve, smiled humorlessly. "Got any better ideas? Rodimus, this is a human ship. It's designed to be run by humans and all corridors except for the cargo zone, are human sized. A Cybertronian, however small, would never be able to hide there!"   
Spike nodded. "He's right, Rodimus, and you know it. And that from someone who is small for a Cybertronian. I wouldn't be able to hide in there. A human could."   
The young Prime didn't like it. It was clearly visible on his face.   
"I could add one or two more when using the doorway lines," Midnight now said carefully. "It could work."   
Wild Card nodded. He knew Midnight had been training this new ability lately and he would be able to get close to the Praddoxx like Wild Card, only using a different technique.   
Suddenly the com link beeped. "Rodimus, this is Blaster! EDC is sendin' some guy called Frasier up here to assist."   
"Frasier?" Rodimus asked. "What the.... Why didn't they call me directly?"   
"Ya askin' the wrong bot for that, Prime. Want a line to EDC Central?"   
"You bet!" Rodimus looked at the assembled robots and people, all looking surprised, curious or both. A minute later he was on the line with an EDC official.

* * *

The Runner streaked through space toward the metal planet, its position lights blinking regularly. In the cockpit a young woman dressed in a casual looking, black jumpsuit sat at the controls and talked with Control of Cybertron's West Central.   
"Roger that," she just confirmed the latest information. "ETA one hour, West Central Control."   
The controller at the space port gave her emergency landing coordinates and course, then she switched off. She activated the autopilot and then walked into the passenger cabin.   
The cabin was rather crammed and resembled an office, complete with a satellite linked computer, phone and TV. The ship was not your normal run-of-the-mill EDC vessel. It was a specially outfitted Runner, one of those small ships who had more technology aboard than any larger version. They belonged to the Special Squad of the EDC, a small branch nearly invisible in the whole complicated system of the military arm of Earth. They were a team of highly professional, highly trained covert agents, who would be send on those missions the joined governments would immediately deny any knowledge of. Those missions, who were politically sensitive or too dangerous for anyone else to be allowed to work them. In the old days they had been called IMF, the Impossible Mission Force, now they were Special Squad.   
They had access to the latest in technology without stealing it, though none of the computer wizards of Special Sections would call it that way. They simply 'acquired' the files. There was also an account with a whole lot of money at their disposal to assure a nearly endless flow of currency for them to accomplish their goal. Few knew where the money came from. It didn't officially exist and was rerouted from under the nose of many congress men into a black account, something that was called under a different name each time there was a household discussion going on. Few, very few, knew were the money went. Even fewer knew about the existence of Special Squad as such. The name existed, but there was a big gap between what the EDC description was and what the Squad did.   
And those who knew, really didn't want to know. It was sometimes the stuff of nightmares.   
One of the few things that hadn't changed throughout the decades of the IMF/Squad's existence was the fact that the team leader had the right to turn down an assignment in case he judged it as too dangerous or really impossible. He was also the only one to choose a team from out of the available agents.   
This time there had been no choosing. This time it was a request from the highest order and the mission was as delicate as it was important.   
The pilot noiselessly approached the man lying on the tiny couch. Nevertheless he opened his eyes the second she came up to him.   
"We'll be landing in about one hour," she said softly.   
The man resting on the couch nodded and sat upright. He straightened his shirt   
and stretched. "Anything new?"   
"No. I guess we'll get the latest when we're down."   
Colonel Matt Frasier stifled a yawn and she gave him a critical look.   
"Not much sleep before now, right?" she asked and there was heavy criticism in her voice.   
"Correct," he simply said.   
She shook her head. "When will you ever learn?" she muttered.   
He smiled humorlessly. "Never, and you know it, Mainframe."   
Mainframe, pilot and Squad member herself, shrugged. "You are the one with his head in the sling this time."   
Mainframe was not included in this mission. She was mainly a pilot, able to fly everything from a broomstick to an alien fighter, her particular area of expertise warp runs. This time she would only get a team member to Cybertron, nothing else. Now she walked back to the cockpit section.   
Frasier only lay back with a half-smile and closed his eyes again.

* * *

Daniel sat silently in the room, watching the three terrorists as they guarded their doomed victims. It was a crazy plan! Killing themselves and a ship of diplomats to rekindle old animosities, just so the ACL could gain in power! It was such a mad idea it might even work! It had worked so far. They had somehow gotten aboard, had taken out the EDC personnel and taken over the ship.   
God help them all.....   
The Earth representatives were a mixed group right now. Some only sat there, stony faced, totally scared. Others nervously wrung their hands, chewed on their lower lips, nails or fingers, and some just kept on looking around, eyes darting from one corner to the next. Ken Marshall met Daniel's eyes, never twitching a muscle, but his eyes were the usual sea of calmness. Cathy Lee had her eyes fixed on the wall, looking a bit distant, body relaxed. Daniel knew this posture. He had seen Shanygn in it once. She was linking.   
Suddenly one of the aides started to tremble more visibly. His face was  chalk white and covered in sweat. His hands were shaking so badly Daniel was afraid he was going to have a spastic attack. Suddenly he gave a whimpering cry, erupting from his chair.   
"No!" he cried, wailing.   
The three terrorists fixed their attention on him.   
"Sit down!" Green One ordered.   
The human stared at him, wide-eyed, completely lost in a nightmare he had set up for himself. He screamed again and his screams became higher and higher. Nervous breakdown.   
"Shut him up!" the leader hissed. "Or I'll do it for you!" His gun leveled at the hapless aide.   
Per Carlsson, sitting next to the wailing man, got up and stepped between the gun and the target. "Why don't you shoot? Kill us all before we blow up?" he asked, voice level. "Saves us from counting the minutes!"   
Green One sneered. "Oh? Would you like to be the first?"   
"Carlsson, sit down!" General Brighton ordered.   
"Why? Because he will shoot me?" Carlsson shook his head. "He wants to see us suffer like poor Hartmann here. He wants to see us squirm. He can't do that if he shoots us!" His piercing blue eyes fixed on Green One. "You know how much time is still left and you know when to leave for safer waters. You want to take the memory of us slowly going crazy with you, don't you?"   
Green One listened patiently to the accusing words. Now he smiled. "You amuse me." Then he pulled the trigger.   
Carlsson was hit right in the chest. He broke down, blood gushing out of the wound.   
Screams echoed through the room, strangely enough not from Hartmann, who only stared at the dead man lying at his side with wide eyes.   
"Shut up" Green One bellowed.   
Daniel tried to stop himself from shaking. Cathy Lee was a frozen statue. The others huddled in their chairs, sobbing, shaking or trying not to faint. General Brighton fixed a murderous gaze on the terrorist.   
"I don't like amusing people," Green One now told them. "All of you better shut up or you have the honor of dying before your friends. Do I make myself clear?"   
No one said a word, only nodded.

* * *

Alan Dark, EDC liaison to Cybertron, was on his way to his car when a horde of reporters swarmed toward him. He groaned. No! Who had leaked the story?   
"Mr. Dark, we heard that the freighter with the conference attendees was kidnapped by unknown forces. What happened?" a blonde woman asked, thrusting a microphone under his nose.   
"Is it the work of terrorists?" a man asked.   
"Are the Cybertronians involved?"   
"Does Cybertron really want to obliterate Earth?"   
Dark waved them off. "No comment," was all he said, then got into his car.   
The reporters, like a flock of vultures, searched for a new victim.   
Dark patched himself through to his secretary. "Madeleine, get me a link to West Central on Cybertron. I want to talk to Rodimus Prime ASAP!"

* * *

Megatron sat in the command chair of the Apocalypse, face frozen into a mask as he listened to Rodimus Prime's detailed report.   
"I knew we couldn't trust those human!" he finally hissed.   
Rodimus smiled humorlessly. "I wouldn't generalize that, but yes, we shouldn't have trusted this whole conference idea so easily, I have to agree. But that's not our main concern. Right now the situation is more than delicate. One person died already and if we don't come up with a plan, all will follow."   
"A team of my Decepticons could get in there and terminate these worthless worms!"   
The young Prime kept his humorless smile, but he shook his head. "And probably set off the bombs. No. I want the Apocalypse to stand by. Cloak and keep an eye on them, but don't move in. This is tricky. We also might have another problem: the media got wind of it all and there's a lot of commotion out there. EDC suspects that TV station satellite shuttles will pop up all over the place soon."   
Megatron didn't like it. He liked it even less than he had liked the whole conference idea, but he saw the logic behind it. Sending in brute force would most likely end with a total disaster, but right now he wanted nothing more than to squish those humans under his feet.   
"Understood," he grated. "We'll be invisible." Then he turned to Cyclonus. "Move in on the coordinates. Full cloaking, low level output."   
Cyclonus nodded and the Apocalypse started to slowly turn, the cloak humming into life. Megatron watched the virtual display, calculated the speed and time, knowing that with a full cloak they couldn't do maximum speed without leaking energy or trailing signals. Still, they would be faster than any other ship, except for their sister ship Monolith.   
"Prepare long range surveillance," he ordered. "I don't want them to get a beep out of us!"

* * *

Colonel Frasier looked around. He had been here a few times before, never on official business, and also never on private. There was no such separation when working for the Squad. But still this place amazed him. He had been to large Earth cities, those constructed with Cybertronian help, but nothing could compare to Cybertron as such. Everything was gigantic. It looked like an architect's playground, several architect's that was. The skyscrapers were of every known style and pieces of art decorated the streets. There was a hard-to-describe beauty to this place. Frasier had to confess he liked Cybertron.   
Then he discovered a man dressed in dark jeans and a dark shirt walking toward him.

Jeff had been expecting a lot of things, but not who he now faced. When EDC Central on Earth had agreed to send in a specialist to help them with this situation, agreeing that showing up with a whole fleet would only set the terrorists of, Winters had thought a military type, someone in the white EDC uniform, a crew cut and maybe armed to the teeth. Now he was looking at a blond man, dressed in jeans and a leather jacket no one took any greater notice of. He seemed to be in his late twenties or early thirties, with wavy, whitish blond hair and grayish blue eyes, which now gave his surroundings a closer inspection.   
"Colonel Frasier?" Jeff asked, fighting down his surprise.   
The blond man nodded. "You are Winters?"   
Now it was Jeff's turn to nod.   
Frasier stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you, even if it's under such circumstances."   
Jeff smiled and shook his hand. "You can say that again. Follow me."   
He lead the EDC man down the giant hallways and to a conference center which had been set up like a war room. Frasier didn't seem to be very overwhelmed by it all and his reaction to Midnight's presence was nothing more than a simple, curious look, which rested on the black Sentinel a few seconds longer than on Wild Card.   
"Colonel Frasier, welcome to West Central," Rodimus Prime greeted the human.   
To the assembled Cybertronians and humans, Frasier didn't exactly look like an EDC officer, with the jeans-and-leather outfit. He also appeared to be too young to hold such a high rank, as if he was fresh out of the academy.   
"Rodimus Prime," he then returned the greeting. "Colonel Matt Frasier, Special Squad." He didn't salute.   
"Special Squad?" Steve asked.   
"The Suicide Squad," Jeff muttered.   
Frasier suddenly grinned, but there was also a surprised look in his eyes, and Jeff shrugged.   
"Yes, we are called that as well. Special Squad takes on those missions no one else wants, the suicide ones." Frasier made a mental note to find out how this man could know about the Squad.   
Rodimus' face darkened. "I don't intend to make this a suicide run," he said dryly.   
"Neither do I, Prime, but it is a dead end situation no one wants to handle because it might go up right in their faces," Frasier explained, voice level and quite neutral. "We are facing a bunch of ACL extremists, ready to blow the ship with everyone aboard, not demanding anything and not offering an exchange. They are hell-bent on obliterating everyone aboard. Why they haven't done it is everyone's guess, though I might have one. Anyway, this is not your run-of-the-mill operation."   
Rodimus gave the smaller human a thoughtful look. "Agreed. You said you might have a clue why they haven't done anything yet....?"   
Frasier nodded. "Media. Pure and simple. They want this to be a widely known incident, not some accident in deep space. They want TV coverage and they'll get it. You can never keep such things secret, especially with terrorists, who have friends back home to spread the word."   
"I know," Rodimus ground out. "They know already. Alan Dark, our liaison to EDC, called an hour ago. Someone leaked it."   
"So they are waiting for the cameras to establish their shooting positions, then they'll blow the thing," Steve concluded.   
"Exactly. They'll probably give a little speech first, then set off the bombs." Frasier looked at them. "I've had my run-ins with the ACL and the other purists. They have a false story to tell the media, blaming it most likely on you, and no one knows what really happened. Believe me, they will blow the ship, whatever you offer them."   
"That's why we are not offering and why you are here," Midnight entered the conversation. "EDC agreed to keep their presence out of the immediate scanner range and even further, and they sent you to aid us."   
Frasier nodded. And I will. But I need help in return because I'm not kidding myself on my abilities. I might have the experience but they have the numbers. I've to know what I'm facing. I want to know exactly what kind of ship, who is aboard, the names of the crew members and their background, everything, every tid-bit you can find."   
"That can be arranged," Rodimus said. "We have everything we need on the ship and the crew information isn't that hard to find. Anything specific you are looking for?"   
"Connections to any kind of ACL activity. Even the smallest thing." Frasier's face was dead serious. "They went past security and onboard checks. Someone aboard or even more than one helped them become part of the crew. I want to know how many sympathizers we might have."   
That was the moment F/X gave a cry, bolting out of his chair, blue optics blazing with emotions.   
Midnight whirled around. "F/X?"   
"They shot Carlsson," the other Sentinel whispered, shocked to the core.   
"What?!" Rodimus exclaimed. "Why?"   
"For .... nothing......"

* * *

The Apocalypse hovered in space, hidden from the prying eye, all scanners on full. Megatron stood in front of the large screen displaying tactical positions and coordinates. The Praddoxx was a red blip in the right corner. Several blue blips were now moving closer, but keeping their distance nevertheless. TV crews. The Decepticon sneered. He was very much tempted to give the order to blast them all out of the system, but he reigned in his emotions and simply watched.   
"We have a call from West Central," Cyclonus reported as he joined him at the tactical station. "The terrorists shot one of the humans. Rodimus Prime is sending in two of the Sentinels to Gate close to the freighter, drop three humans, then get out again."   
Megatron frowned. "Humans?" he then growled.   
Cyclonus nodded. "Apparently the EDC has sent an infiltration specialist. He and two Interfaced humans are going in to take care of the bombs."   
Disdain floated over Megatron's features, then he simply hissed softly.

* * *

Matt Frasier sat in the war room, thinking. He hadn't had a very thorough briefing, he decided. At least not concerning the people he would be working with. He knew part of the situation from what EDC had told him, but most of it had been in the dark until he had come here. He had learned about the current situation, that they had a person inside who was actually an Interface and through this linked to one of the Sentinels. She was constantly updating them as to what the situation was like.   
He surveyed the room, looking at each and everyone. Rodimus Prime he knew, had even met once, though the Autobot surely wouldn't remember ever seeing him. He had been undercover then. Then there was Midnight and he was the freakiest and most unusual life form Frasier had ever met; completely black except for the strange yellow veins on his upper arms and thighs, and the green visor, he was like a small black hole in a brightly lit room. If he concentrated on him, Frasier thought he saw a faint aura of blackness moving around him. Intelligence had reported on the Sentinels, but they had never found out many details. And meeting Midnight live was no comparison to any shot in some hastily compiled file.   
Then there was Steven Parker, Interface partner to Midnight, not human but deceivingly human in appearance. EDC knew next to nothing about where he came from, whether he had any abilities out of the ordinary or what his background was. The files were a bit more exact concerning Jefferson Winters, though it was still unknown if the information was correct. He was human and he came from Earth, had supposedly worked one or two years for EDC and had belonged to the Navy. That he knew about the Special Squad more than the average EDC employee told Frasier that this man had had some high level access, even if only for a short period of time. And he was Interfaced as well.   
Wild Card was of no interest to him, except for the mission. Like Midnight he was mostly unknown, his file brief and consisting of only one page. EDC had never bothered with the Sentinels overly much. Maybe they should have.   
Now he rose and walked over to the plotting table. It was time to get going.

Steve felt like he was thrown back millennia, right into his old job. He had been a Rift pilot, trained for extreme situations, often handed dangerous jobs. He knew these emergency briefings only too well. From his expression, Jeff seemed to feel the same. Like Steve he had been trained by the military of his world and he had handled some extreme stuff as well. But none of them had ever been called to do what they were about to.   
Infiltration.   
Sabotage.   
Neutralization of the enemy.   
"The best way to get in would be through the upper decks," a voice got Steve back to reality. He turned and looked at the holographic image of the Praddoxx. "The security doors to the upper levels are not as heavy. The upper level cells expand over the crew quarters and we can get in from there. Once we are inside the cell, we can use a service tunnel to spread out and neutralize the targets."   
Colonel Matt Frasier looked at his team of two men, the only two he would take along and the only two he had agreed to. He had fought taking 'civilians' with him, but had yielded in the end.   
"Our partners can get us there without problems," Jeff now said, nodding. "The scanners of the freighter can't pick them up when they Gate and pop up right above."   
Frasier grinned wryly. Steve knew that this was something like a state secret revealed because it meant that Cybertronians could sneak up on EDC freighters unseen.   
Now Steve nodded as well. "So, we punch in through the outer structure, hoping it won't set up and alarm, then go in and spread out."   
Frasier smiled humorlessly. "They won't even feel the punch. The freighter was constructed for heavy duty detail, which means its armored better than a battle ship on the outside, and our entrance won't be more than an insect bite." He pointed at the specs. "We'll be dropping in between two hulls and getting out of the cells of the inner hull will be the most difficult of our task. When we are in, it's easy."   
"Sez you," Steve muttered.   
Frasier grinned. "Leave the terrorists to me, Parker. You just take care of the bombs. They will be set in strategic positions and easy to find if you know where to look."   
"Yeeha," Steve sighed with false happiness, grimacing.   
The other man smiled wryly. "I'll supply you both with a list of possible wired points. As for how we stay in contact...." He held up a pair of glasses. "These are what we call Viscos, specially constructed glasses with embedded microelectronics. They have an audio and video link to these wrist computers," he held up the wrist bands as well, "transmitting picture and sound through a microscopic microphone and lens. The transmission can be received up to one mile away and can't be traced."   
He handed them to both Steve and Jeff. The two men looked curiously at the glasses, then tried them on. Jeff snapped the bracelet computer around one wrist and when he activated the window he saw his own back because Steve was currently looking at him. He smiled.   
"Neat gadget."   
"And quite handy," Frasier agreed.   
"Let's hope they don't have scramblers up," Wild Card now said.   
Frasier's face darkened for a second and he nodded thoughtfully. "If they have, we are in trouble."   
"Not really," Midnight joined in. "At least concerning Jeff and Steve. We are still able to contact them through the link. But you ...."   
The EDC Colonel smiled coldly. "Don't worry about me. You do your job, I'll do mine. If we lose contact, everyone follows the preset plan."   
They didn't look happy, but this was the only way.

* * *

The air in the conference room was stuffy. Most of the hostages had given up and were sitting silently in their chairs, either eyes closed or staring blankly at something they didn't really see. Daniel Witwicky was watching the copper-haired woman at his side, now and then sneaking a look at Optimus Prime and Arcee, who sat silently in the far corner of the room, unable to transform and act without endangering them all. Of the three terrorists, only two were here right now. Their leader had left for the bridge.   
Cathy Lee had her eyes closed, appearing asleep, but now and then she opened them and Daniel saw a slight glazed look in them. She was conscious and 'here', but most of her mind was busy with the link. He wondered what the others were doing. None of them were allowed to talk and looks could only say so much.   
Ken Marshall sat two chairs further down, watching the terrorists like a hawk would a mouse. Daniel knew the man wasn't about to be frightened into inactivity. Something was going on inside of him; he just hoped he wouldn't try some foolish stunt. The same went for the EDC general, who had covered the dead body of Hartmann with his jacket after closing the poor man's eyes.   
Suddenly Cathy turned her head and met Daniel's eyes, her green ones suddenly very much alive again. She nodded almost imperceptibly and it told him more than words.   
The Cybertronians were on the move.

* * *

"Here we are," Steven Parker muttered, looking at the large freighter.   
Midnight was hovering over the outer hull, a small black spot hidden between two bulky outcroppings of unknown function. Wild Card was right at his side. Both Sentinels had Gated to a position close to the Apocalypse, scanned the situation, getting a briefing from Cyclonus on the freighter's position compared to the TV crews, then had jumped again.   
Colonel Frasier was already getting ready to depart, his light exo-suit closed, the oxygen flowing. He was currently checking everything the last time. One false setting and getting into the freighter wouldn't be necessary anymore. Space was quite single-minded when it came to holes or leaks in suits.   
"Ready?" Steve asked.   
"Yes. Let's go."   
They left the relative safety of the black Sentinel. Steve shot an anchoring rope into the nearest wall and secured himself on it, floating in space. Jeff was already anchored on the surface, waiting, while Wild Card hovered over him.   
"Communications check," Frasier spoke into the mike.   
"Coming in loud and clear," Winters replied and Steve did the same.   
"Our lucky day," the EDC Colonel now remarked and pointed at the metal hull.   
Steve nodded. The paint had flaked off on most of the parts, making way for rust, but through the rust he could see the faint outline of a door.   
Frasier strapped himself secure on the hull and then began to place the small packs of charges which would blow the hatch. They weren't strong, but they would do their job. He nodded at the two others and they hopped away, weightlessness increasing their ability to gain distance, but they were still secured to ropes.   
The charges blew.

Midnight was black against black space as he slowly banked away from the freighter, feeling reluctant to do so. Wild Card followed, equally unwilling to leave his partner alone. But they had to go. There was no other way. They both entered a Gate the moment they were out of the immediate danger zone and jumped back to the waiting battle cruiser.   
"They are in," Midnight reported.   
Rodimus acknowledged and told them to come in.

*

<<They are in>> F/X sent and felt Cathy's tension and relief in one.   
She was holding up quite well so far, but she was growing increasingly itchy about it all. He tried to calm her with his presence, but he knew what was at stake.   
<<Just hold on>>   
<<I am. But some of the others are close to losing it now>>   
F/X knew what this meant. If anyone else broke or had a nervous episode, he or she would die.

*

Frasier, dressed in his black fatigues, buckled his ammo belt, then nodded at Steve and Jeff, both wearing their exo-suits, though the mildly toned down version. The Viscos were activated and were functioning – for now. Some of the exo-suits' extras which would slow them down would stay in subspace. Frasier had decided against an exo-suit, telling them his own armor was good enough for him. He was used to traveling light and he didn't need bulky metal to weigh him down. Steve had only frowned and then shrugged.   
"We are go," the EDC Colonel then said.   
They separated and moved out.

Jeff had come as far as the first cell intersection when his Visco died. He cursed softly.   
<<Scramblers>> Wild Card whispered. <<Steve has the same trouble>>   
Winters cursed again and then moved on. Now they had to fall back on their partners, not knowing how Frasier was faring.

* * *

Christopher Alvarez, 'Green One', stood on the bridge of the freighter, smiling darkly as he looked at the dozen blips all around them, each identifying itself as a TV crew of a different station, all asking for an interview. Everything was working smoothly.....   
He looked at the timer. Two more hours until the bombs went off and nothing could stop him. No Cybertronian ship had shown up on their scanners and neither had any EDC vessel. Of course, they could be hiding among the TV crews, but he doubted it. And even if they were, what could they do? No one would be allowed on board and he would schedule the interview, or better: his last speech, that it would end five minutes before the detonation.   
Nothing could stop him!

* * *

Steve connected the circuits and the door slit open with a soft hum. He allowed himself a satisfied grin and crawled through the door. 'Door' was actually said too much. It was the entrance to an air ventilation shaft of the Praddoxx. With a bit of work and manipulation at the small control switch of the upper shaft he had opened the security door without setting off the alarm. Now he was crawling along the shaft that was normally equipped with highly sensitive pressure pads which Steve, with a few tricks, had persuaded to ignore him. He was glad he was linked to Midnight, who could get to the blueprints and guide him through the sabotage. Otherwise he might have been discovered already.   
So much for easy, he growled in his mind. Frasier had not mentioned that the EDC had refurbished the whole security of the old freighter. This thing was resembling more of an EDC high security vessel than anything else!   
He left the ventilation shaft and found himself in a dark hallway. According to the plans of the ship, which he had learned inside out before he went on his 'tour', he was close to the life support units   
<<Mid?>>   
<<Right here>>   
<<What's the access code for the doors?>>   
There was a moment of silence, then Midnight relayed what information he had gathered. Steve keyed in the combination and the door opened almost noiselessly. He walked in and started to check the rows of machinery.

*

Frasier was a catlike shape against the indigo darkness of the engine room, listening to the low throbbing of the engine blocks. He still had his microphone head gear strapped to his head and sometimes he wished he had an idea where Parker and Winters were. Those two had no trouble staying in contact with each other because of their Interface partners. They knew where they were and how the other was, but Frasier, the team leader so to speak, had no clue how his team was faring. He also wished he had a technical ops expert with him who could get past these scramblers. The scramblers had to be highly sophisticated, taking out equally highly sophisticated gear, but leaving simple radio intact. This way they could talk to each other, monitor the radio waves, and keep unwelcome guests non-communicative.   
He cursed silently.   
They didn't know if the terrorists could scan the radio frequencies and it was way too dangerous to risk it. He had to find Russell, the only person able to get him in contact with the other two, while also taking care to neutralize the terrorists. Not an easy task.   
Looking down from the catwalk he now cowered on, he discovered an armed man in an EDC uniform. Frasier's eyes narrowed.   
Target acquired.   
Moving in.

* * *

Rodimus was like a statue, standing on the bridge of the Apocalypse as if he belonged to the interior decoration, his optics pinned on the unchanged view presented to him by the cameras. Megatron watched the Autobot, tapping his chin. He knew what was most likely going inside him, mainly because he was thinking along the same lines, though in a bit more extreme ways. They were not so different, all the members of the Council, but they had different motivations, backgrounds and programming. Still, it came down to a few essential similarities; similarities he had never thought existed.   
The two Sentinels, Wild Card and Midnight, sat at the tactical station, both concentrating on their partners, both with access to the Apocalypse's extensive computer banks. Wild Card was currently running through the sub directory concerning explosive devices, frowning, now and then tilting his head. Megatron was always freaked by the Interface link and he had never liked it, but he accepted it in many ways. The Interfaces came in handy, though they were also liabilities. Right now they were assets and he knew how to use assets.   
"Life support secured," Midnight suddenly said.   
Rodimus didn't even turn around, simply nodded once. He continued staring at the picture of black space and a tiny blip in the distance everyone knew was the Praddoxx.

* * *

The elevator was not on this floor, so Jeff opened the doors by force. He looked up the elevator shaft and he saw tiny emergency lights along the tunnel. There were also rectangles of light, indicating closed elevator doors. In the middle ran the main elevator cable. Jeff sighed and -- jumped. For two awful seconds he was flying in empty space, then he banged straight into the heavy cable. He clutched it tightly with both hands and felt himself begin to slip. The cable was heavily covered with the grease  and no matter how tightly he held on, he was still slipping. Well, he wanted to go down, so why stop it? He lowered himself down floor by floor, counting how many doors he passed.   
When he arrived at the level the bridge was, he jumped from the cable to the small sill of the door, digging his exo-suit's claws into the concrete of the walls beside him. He was now partly covered by grease and it was disgusting. Then he listened closely. No sound. Again he forced the doors open and stepped into the corridor. He hoped the corridor wasn't monitored.   
<<No cameras>> Wild Card sent upon his inquiry.   
<<Thanks. Tell Steve I'm moving in>>   
Wild Card acknowledged and relayed his message to Midnight to be sent to Steve.

* * *

Optimus Prime sat silently in the corner of the room, transformed into his vehicle mode, sensors on full, trying to feverishly think of a way out of this. Arcee was at his side and though they had gone through a lot of scenarios concerning as to how to overpower the terrorists – using their internal com links, which no one could hear – it all ended with too many humans in danger from their actions. He couldn't risk anything, mainly because the leader could blow the bombs – and even if they stopped him, they had no idea when the timer would send them all to oblivion.   
Suddenly he felt a ripple from the Matrix.   
Soft.   
Warm.   
Bluish light swamping his mind, taking him out of reality, flinging him past the armed terrorists, the bombs, the ships......   
Rodimus?!   
He had felt it before, faintly, distant, and had not been able to attach a meaning to it. Sometimes the Matrix did this. He didn't know why and he had no clue as to what it meant, but it was a reassuring warmth.....   
Now he knew it was his partner-in-command. There was no doubt about it. They were linked through the Matrix, a bond nothing could break and which was as strong as it was mainly useless. There had been situations in the past when Optimus had been acutely aware of Rodimus' condition and the other way around, but the bond was not a way to communicate. Sending anything through the Matrix was not an option, at least not consciously.   
He received a weak wave of .... something. Reassurance, anger, fear, hope.... He identified the source as Rodimus almost instinctively.   
"They are here," he whispered.   
Arcee, who had been equally silent, blinked. "Who?"   
"Help," Optimus told her, voice a bit distant.   
"How do you know?" she wanted to know.   
"I ... I'm not sure. The Matrix... I think Rodimus is trying to connect but we can't."   
Arcee was stunned for a moment. "How do they know?" she then whispered.   
Optimus looked around and then felt like slapping his forehead because he had been so blind. "Cathy Lee Russell."   
"She's linking!" Arcee exclaimed, equally realizing that they had a person aboard who had immediately called for help and who neither had thought of.   
Prime chuckled slightly. He had really forgotten the link she had with F/X because it was still something he had to get used to. Then he grew serious again. So someone was here, trying to help them. But who? And how? He wished he could talk to the Interfaced woman, but he was forced to simply watch her. Something would happen.   
But what?

* * *

Steve had been walking through what looked like a factory warehouse for some time now, trying to figure out where exactly he had to go. This place was heavily confusing! He was completely unfamiliar with the surroundings and though Steve had had a look at the blueprints and actually had some stored in his exo-suit's databanks, he was still in the main storage area connecting to the part of the ship where he had just disarmed two bombs placed in the life support system. Looked like it. There were a lot of crates, machine parts and other stuff he didn't even want to try and identify.   
And then he ran into his first ACL terrorist. He looked young, Steve noted, barely in his mid-twenties, with very short hair, wearing an EDC uniform, armed with some kind of remodeled regular gun. It looked like it had some nasty fire power.   
"Stop it right there!"   
Steve's eyes met those of the young black man facing him, trying to tell him that this was foolish while he raised his hands. He could read the wavering emotions in the man's dark eyes, but there was a firm expression around his lips, an expression Parker had seen with kids, who knew they might do the wrong thing, but were determined to go through with whatever they had to do.   
"Listen," Steve began, his hands spread out to show the young man he had no intention to shoot  him. Midnight was an insistent presence in his mind, demanding him to jump. Steve had no such intentions.   
"Shut up," the man commanded.   
The ship's engines were a low background noise, throbbing, vibrating. The air conditioning was a soft hum compared to it and somewhere metal creaked. All this Steve suddenly heard, was acutely aware of. He was reminded of an article he had once read, that people in near-death situations, stress situations, had heightened senses. Well, he mused darkly, the article had been right. And he could really attest to it. He had been in many near-death situations, but each one was new.   
"What you are doing is wrong. It's suicidal."   
"I said shut up!" His voice had risen.   
Steve readied himself. He knew this gun could probably dent his armor but would not kill him. His opponent was not aware of this, thinking it was standard body armor, which this gun would easily punch through.   
"You'll die. Is that what you want?"   
The young man gave a hiss and his finger curled around the trigger.   
"You don't," Steve pressed on. "I know. I can see it in your eyes."   
Indecision warred in the dark brown eyes.   
And Steve jumped.   
The blast struck one shoulder, nothing more than a blow against the shields of metal, and Steve delivered a hard right into the face of his opponent. He went down like a falling tree.   
"Sorry, kid," Steve muttered and dragged him behind one of the containers.   
Then he searched for the exit, which he found ten minutes later. He was on the conference room level now.

* * *

He had neutralized five terrorists so far. He didn't know how many more there were. He hated vague information.   
Frasier stepped down the stairway and was just about to move on to the door leading to the hallways, when he thought he saw something move.   
Frasier turned the second as something crashed down on him. Because he had turned the heavy whatever-it-was -- it looked like a metal bar -- hit his right shoulder. He cried out and fell down, rolling aside to get out of the way of his attacker. His left hand reached for a weapon, his right arm feeling numb and detached from his body. His hand closed around the hand gun he was carrying. The metal bar ended the life of a switched off lamp. Glass shreds rained over the EDC Colonel as he crawled away, trying to get some distance between himself and his attacker.   
When he looked up from his supine position he saw the attacker, clad all in dark clothes, looming over him, the bar raised to strike again. He raised his weapon and tried to shoot. The bar swung down, catching his left hand. He cried in pain again as his hand was caught between a metal bar and a hard place, so to speak. At least the wall was very unwilling to soften. Frasier lost his weapon, blinking back tears of pain. His mind went on overload, trying to separate pain and Squad training. He fixed on the training, ignoring the pain, and he struck at the attacker with his feet, catching him square in the chest. He was rewarded with a grunt as the attacker flew backward.   
Frasier staggered to his feet, his left hand ablaze with pain, his right shoulder and arm numb, but he was unwilling to let the other guy get the upper hand. And he had never known when to quit. With a strength born out of adrenaline he attacked, using his feet since his hands were useless, kicking and striking at the man with whatever he could muster. The attacker lost his weapon. Frasier tried to get the upper hand, but a strike against his shoulder made him let go with a yelp of pain. The other guy was definitely good! He had apparently had some EDC training, or something else. All the others had been amateurs. This guy was a professional!   
Frasier suddenly saw the weapon lying near by and grabbed it with his left hand. Then he aimed at the shadowy figure of his opponent – who wasn't the least bit impressed.   
He charged.   
Frasier pulled the trigger.   
There was a cry.   
The man broke down, collapsing with an audible 'thump'.   
With an effort the Colonel staggered to his feet and toward the attacker. He stopped at the motionless body's side, unsteady and panting.   
The guy was still alive, Frasier now saw, a sizable wound in his chest, but he was alive. Furious dark eyes blazed up at him.   
"You lost," Frasier growled.   
"Go to hell," the other hissed.   
"That's where you'll go," the EDC officer answered coldly, his gun still pointed at him.   
"And you'll follow, collaborator."   
"I'm not a collaborator. I'm doing my job, which you made quite hard."   
"It's not over yet! No one will leave this ship alive!" the terrorist coughed. "We will win! We will set a sign for everyone to see!"   
Every word dripped with utter rage and hatred. He lived this hate of Cybertronians, he fueled it with all he possessed.   
"Shut up!"   
"You are nothing but a stinking collaborator! A traitor to human kind! You are not worth the uniform you wear!" he screamed and his hand whipped up.   
Frasier saw something flash in the light of the emergency lamps.   
It was the blade of a knife.   
He reacted.   
The sound of his gun rang in the silence of the room.   
The terrorist's eyes widened, then he fell back, a hole in his forehead.   
Frasier put away the weapon, a sad look on his face as he walked away from the body. The words had stung, had hit him hard, but he didn't feel the satisfaction he thought that would come from silencing this scum bag.   
Erasing the incident from his mind, as he always did when something like this happened, he walked on. He still had a job to do.

* * *

Alvarez didn't know why, but something was wrong. He reached for his com link and tried to raise one of his team.   
He was greeted by silence.   
A frown appeared on his forehead and he walked off the bridge, leaving the two others alone to handle the freighter.   
"Green team, respond!" he bellowed into the mike again. And again there was no reply.   
He broke into a run toward the conference center, his gun ready and the safety latch off. It was on the highest setting.

* * *

Daniel only saw it because he had been watching Cathy Lee like a hawk. There was a twitch around her mouth, a barely perceptible smile. She met his eyes and the smile appeared again and she nodded. Daniel looked at Marshall, exchanging silent information.   
Something would happen.   
Cathy Lee's cheek muscles spasmed. Her eyes moved toward the door.   
Soon.   
Her eyes narrowed and she tensed almost imperceptibly.   
Now!   
The doors to the conference center flew open, revealing a figure in a midnight black exo-suit. The two terrorists whirled around, guns rising to fire.   
General Brighton moved. His age belied his agility and the terrorist closest to him was surprised when the aging EDC officer jumped him, throwing them both to the ground and introducing him to a fist like titanium steel. He lost consciousness.   
The second terrorist managed to lose a shot toward the new-arrival, but his aim was way off. Panicked, he started to fire wildly into the room. Screams could be heard, pain and confusion audible in them, and everyone lunged for cover. Daniel felt a hot blast hit the floor beside him. Two inches more to the left and it would have hit him.   
There was the unmistakable sound of a transformation and he knew Optimus and Arcee were back in business. Then the gun-fire stopped. Daniel raised his head and relief flooded through him. The second terrorist lay on the ground, equally unconscious.   
"Everyone okay?!" Steve asked sharply, his voice cutting through the sobs and confused mutterings.   
Brighton stood and straightened his uniform, looking around. There were several hurt people, but none seemed to be gravely wounded.   
"Okay!" Steve went on, silencing even the last of the frightened humans. "We are gaining control of the Praddoxx, but we are not out of danger yet! Everyone stay calm; we're handling it!"   
Brighton approached the exo-suit clad Interface. "Brigadier General Hank X. Brighton," he introduced himself, voice as sharp as a knife. "Who are you?"   
Steve opened his helmet. "Steven Parker, Sir. Part of the rescue team."   
Brighton frowned. "You are not EDC, are you?"   
Steve smiled slightly. "No, I'm what you know as an Interface. We are here to get this mess straightened out. Back-up is out there and waiting for our signal. There are still bombs we haven't found yet."   
"And you won't find them!"   
They whirled around.   
Christopher Alvarez stood in the corridor, a mad grin on his face. One hand was holding a gun, the other the remote control.   
"Say good-bye!"   
His finger twitched.   
Steve acted without thinking He jumped, using his thrusters to catapult himself forward.   
Alvarez fired his gun. The shot impacted with the exo-suit, denting it considerably, but not breaking the metal skin.   
Steve was thrown back against the wall, momentarily winded, gasping, pain shooting from his now bruised back.   
Alvarez pushed the remote's button.

On the bridge, a small screen came to life. Data rolled on it and then came to a stop like the rolling elements of a slot machine. A single word was spelled on the screen: READY.   
Neither one of the two ACL members still guarding the bridge saw it.

Several levels down, the emergency control board of the freighter went up in a brilliant sheet of flame that spread across the room, scorching the walls and searing everything in its immediate radius.

As did the navigational control system.

And the engines control board.

The Praddoxx bucked once, then lurched forward as all safety measure around the engines broke, igniting them.

Alvarez laughed wildly and leveled his gun at the assembled conference attendees. "We may not go up all at once, but this ship is heading for doom! We will win!"   
His finger once again curled around the trigger.

*

"We have movement!"   
Rodimus Prime whirled around. "What?!"   
"He detonated the remaining bombs," Midnight whispered, horrified optics meeting those of Rodimus'.   
"Praddoxx is gaining speed!" came the report from the radar station.   
"Decloak!" Megatron ordered. "Move in to intercept! Give me course and speed!"   
"Heading five-zero-one. Speed is twelve and rising!" was the answer.   
Both leaders looked at each other.   
"The space station!" Rodimus whispered. "They are going right toward the damn station!"

*

Matt Frasier had not witnessed all that had been going on, but looking at it all from his vantage point above the corridor, he had a pretty good idea what was happening.   
And he acted.   
With one swift kick the airvent grill went flying and he dropped out of the shaft, rolling over the floor and coming into firing position.   
Alvarez whirled around.   
Matt never hesitated. He brought his still aching arm up to stabilize the gun he was holding and fired.   
The terrorist leader went flying back a few paces, his finger spasmodically twitching around the trigger. The shots hit the airvent above, turning it into a sieve, molten metal dripping down, some shots ricocheting off.   
Frasier staggered to his feet, feeling his body protest. Steve did the same, biting back a groan. They looked at each other.   
"Nice work," Parker said with a faint smile.   
"Likewise, though we are not out of it yet." The EDC Colonel stowed away his gun, looking into the conference room full of frightened and confused people. "We have to stop this ship!"   
Steve had a pretty good idea what was going on since Midnight was relaying the outside view directly to him.   
"Where's your friend?"   
"Midnight says he's on his way to the bridge already." Suddenly the Viscos sputtered into life. Steve smiled humorlessly. "And he found a way to shut down the scrambler."   
Frasier nodded. "Let's go! Everyone else stays here! Rescue is on the way!"   
The two men ran toward the bridge.

* * *

"Shuttle has left bay!"   
Megatron watched the shuttle race away from the Apocalypse, which was keeping a parallel course to the Praddoxx, though only as close need-be.   
"Praddoxx still on collision course," Cyclonus said, voice level. "Impact in ten minutes."

* * *

Taking the bridge was no great effort. Steve and Matt had met up with Jeff down the corridor from the bridge's entrance. One of the terrorists tried to shoot them, but Frasier shot him first, the second one screaming he would surrender. Steve punched him out just for safety reasons.

* * *

"We won't be able to get in before they impact!" Wild Card called.   
Rodimus knew that but he was grimly keeping his silence, optics fixed on the moving freighter as he piloted the shuttle closer to the moving behemoth. He also knew it was sturdy enough to withstand the impact and he just hoped that it would slow down enough to allow them entry and departure.   
"Get ready," was all he whispered.

* * *

Steve cursed softly. They were moving and they were gaining speed. It wasn't a full thrust run yet, but their speed was climbing.   
"The bomb severed all links to the engine controls. We can't stop!" Jeff said as he moved between the radar screen and various navigational computers.   
Steve felt a cold wave rush through him. "Any way to cut off the engines by force?" he now asked.   
"Dunno. This place looks like Mission Control!"   
Frasier grabbed a wrench and eyed the computer banks. "Let's see how long it takes to hit the autopilot," he commented and smashed the next best control panel he found.   
A fountain of sparks was the only visible effect.   
Frasier smashed a computer screen and a digital display with the same result.   
"I don't think this works," Steve muttered. "What if we blow the connection between the engines and the thrusters?"   
Winters smiled grimly. "If you want to blow up the whole ship while doing so, yes, that is a way. Right now we have no access to emergency shut down whatsoever."   
"We have to evacuate the ship!" Frasier growled, idly swinging the wrench.   
"We can't! Everything's dead! We can't do anything but watch reports from the sensors come in and pray! The cargo doors won't open, much less the emergency trap doors to the outside!" Jeff gave a frustrated hiss.   
"We have 20 humans and two Autobots on board and they need to get off this floating piece of junk!" Frasier ground out. "No ship can dock while she is moving so fast and we have less and less time!"   
Steve stared at the space station coming closer. "I'd say we have no time," he whispered almost inaudibly.   
Frasier looked at the view screen, realizing what was coming. "You two stay here and ..... do whatever!" he ordered.   
"And where do you think you're going?" Steve demanded.   
"Blowing the cargo doors!"   
With that he was gone.   
"He's mad," Jeff commented dryly.   
Steve shrugged. "Must be part of his job description."   
The old metal structure was looming up before them now, the Praddoxx moving faster and faster. Steve's face was expressionless as the freighter kept bearing down on the unmoving object, knowing it was inevitable.

The humans and two Autobots watched in dread as the ship moved closer. No one was able to tear their eyes away from the screen which gave them a direct link to the outside cameras.   
"Brace for impact!" Daniel yelled.   
With a rending sound of steel against steel, the Praddoxx sideswiped the station. Humans screamed as they were thrown from their places, sprawling and tumbling as the floor beneath them heaved and pitched. The Praddoxx ran its nose along the side of the outer left part of the space station with a loud, grinding and crunching noise. The space station's outer part crumbled like paper. Paint scraped off the ship as it moved on relentlessly.   
Somewhere, the outer hull bent under the impact, rupturing. Steel plates were torn apart, sparks igniting a small fire down in the storage areas, smoke pouring out into the corridors. Fire alarms sounded and the automatic firefighting system began a hopeless battle inside a dying ship.   
More steel plates began to bulge inward like paper.... and broke.   
Something clung to the freighter, looking like a giant thorn now slicing the side open. It was some obscene bent and twisted metal arm from the space station, cutting through the weakened structure like a knife through butter. As the Praddoxx went forward, the arm pulled tight against the steel plates of the ship's side. Rivets popped and ricocheted off the walls like jumbo-sized bullets. The plates fell off the ship like playing cards. Then the arm ripped free, taking some more plates with it.

Frasier held on to whatever he could, the ship tilting wildly, tossing and bucking, metal creaking and groaning around him. His muscles were strained to painful maximum. With shaking hands, he strapped himself to the wall, using the harness of his suit which looked like a climber's gear. His left wrist throbbed painfully and his right shoulder was on fire. Cursing softly he started to hit a series of switches which would manually override the cargo door controls. The force field keeping the oxygen level up was barely functional and he didn't know if it would survive the rescue shuttle's entry, but he hoped so. Otherwise they were dead.   
DO YOU WANT TO OPEN CARGO DOOR 1?   
Frasier hissed in pain as the ship bucked again and suddenly made a slight tilt to the left. He was slammed into the wall, his helmeted head bumping hard into it. He started to see stars.

On the bridge of the Praddoxx, everyone was clinging to the consoles.   
"We are slowing down!" Jeff announced.   
"Not enough to avoid that!" Steve yelled, pointing at the main bulk of the station.   
"I should have stayed in bed," Winters muttered.   
Parker looked at his read-outs. "We got fires down below." A string of cursing followed.   
"Where?"   
"Near the engines."   
Now it was Jeff's turn to curse. The ship shuddered beneath him like an angry dog trying to rid itself of its fleas.   
Steve concentrated. <<Midnight!>>   
<<Reading you. Rodimus says we'll try and move in the moment you have slowed down enough>>   
<<You better hurry!>>   
The Praddoxx impacted with the next arm of the station, tossing Steve into a computer bank.

*

Rodimus optics were fixed on his target. This would be a close call. They had to go in through the partially open cargo doors, get everyone out, then move away before the freighter blew.   
"Shuttle One to Apocalypse," he opened a line. "We are moving closer."   
"Acknowledged," came the Apocalypse's reply.   
Rodimus piloted the shuttle closer. Midnight and Wild Card were flanking him, getting ready to enter the dying ship's belly as well.   
"Cargo hold in sight," Rodimus said, steering the small shuttle after the giant freighter, keeping out of the way of debris flying left and right. "Going in," he added levelly.   
The shuttle dove for the hole in the ship's belly.   
Midnight and Wild Card streaked ahead, making the same murderous run for the Praddoxx.

*

The freighter's prow crashed into the space station's main body. The impact against the metal bulk threw everyone forward. Those down in the conference room tumbled mostly against the two Autobots trying to shield them while the bridge crew was introduced to the navigational controls and computers.   
The Praddoxx ripped through the observation dome of the space station, splintering it. With a rumble like hell opening itself up, the heavy load ship pushed deeper and further.   
"We are slowing!" Jeff yelled over the cacophony.   
<<We're coming in!>> Midnight called almost simultaneously.   
"Let's go!" Steve ordered. "They are moving in!"   
They staggered out of the bridge control room, the ship shaking beneath them.

Down in the conference room, Optimus Prime had transformed. "Get in!" he ordered the confused diplomats and EDC personnel.   
Arcee had done the same, taking Daniel, Cathy Lee, one EDC officer and Benedic aboard. The rest piled into the Autobot leader and then Prime accelerated, crashing into the doors and tearing them out of their sockets. Arcee followed him. They raced down the empty, slightly too narrow corridor, the ship tossing and turning. Optimus was somehow glad the hallway was too tight because it kept him from sliding left or right. He was losing quite a lot of his paint job, but that was a minor problem. Sparks erupted left and right of him where metal scraped on metal.   
The conference room was on the same levels as the main cargo hold, seeing that it had been a small storage room itself before it was used as a meeting place where Autobots could fit as well. Optimus was bearing down on the main doors with increasing speed.   
"You're gonna crash!" Marshall exclaimed.   
"That's the idea of it!"   
And then they collided with the doors.

Matt Frasier was barely able to see, hearing explosions all around him, but he managed to key in the last commands and the cargo doors opened more.   
He heard another explosion.

The doors were flung open, one tearing out, Optimus' front side denting visibly. He hit the brakes, sliding to a stop, nearly bumping into someone he knew.   
"Rodimus!"   
"What the....?" The Autobots' second-in-command blinked, then ignored all the rising questions. "Get into the shuttle!" he ordered. "Fast!"   
The humans ran over to the waiting shuttle, not arguing about anything. The freighter was now shaking more, groaning and twisting, and Optimus thought he heard more steel plates snap off.   
"You are stuck in the station, but the engines are still on-line!" Midnight reported as he joined the two leaders.   
"Where are the others?" Optimus wanted to know, watching the last of the humans get aboard the rescue shuttle.   
"Steve said they are coming. He and Jeff were on the bridge. Frasier...." Midnight listened. "Damnit, he must be somewhere around here! Everyone else is either dead or already aboard."   
"I'm here," a weak voice said.   
They turned around and saw the EDC officer, his suit banged up, a bit unsteady on his feet.   
The Praddoxx bucked and nearly swiped them off their feet. Rodimus grabbed his leader's arm and pulled.   
"You – inside!" he ordered.   
Optimus wanted to object, but the expression in his younger friend's optics said enough. He ran over to the shuttle.   
"We'll take care of the others," Wild Card assured Rodimus and the Autobot followed Prime.   
Somewhere, something exploded.   
"There they are!" Wild Card suddenly called.   
Steve and Jeff phased immediately when they were in the cargo hold, only mildly surprising Frasier. Both Sentinels transformed, Midnight opening his cockpit cover. Frasier didn't need another hint. He climbed up Midnight's side and jumped in.   
"Hold on!" Midnight called and accelerated, passing the taxiing shuttle and shooting out of he freighter. Wild Card did the same, closely followed by the shuttle.

The engines were by now making loud, grinding noises and vibrating like mad. Small explosions rocked the freighter, which was pushing both his own weight and that of the space station. The engines were strained beyond maximum and here and there pipes blew. Lights flashed on monitor screens and an electronic warning beep sounded throughout the engine room.   
There was no one left to hear it.   
There were by now so many red lights flashing on all the control boards that they were like Christmas decoration.   
The needles on the engine dials were now in the red zone, almost hitting the highest marking, and hooters sounded alert on all engine room levels. And then it happened.   
The tempered steel back of engine 5 lifted off. The blast was enough to mow down the wall between this room and the next one. Elsewhere, engine parts whistled like artillery shells and destroyed what they hit. The exploding engine caused the entire ship to tilt to one side, groaning and creaking dangerously. Anything not bolted down inside was flung everywhere, crashing into walls, ceilings and the floor. On the empty bridge, monitors and digital displays lit up.   
And then the whole engine section exploded.

Rodimus willed the shuttle to go faster. It was already giving all it got and he knew it would not be fast enough. Optimus was strapped into the co-pilot's chair, Arcee on the additional chair facing the controls in the back.   
And then the shock wave hit them.   
The shuttle tumbled almost out of control and the humans screamed in fear and shock. Optimus and Arcee hung on to their seats, faces grim and set. Daniel had closed his eyes, breathing hard, his body pressed into the emergency security vest he, and everyone else, was wearing and which secured him to the shuttle's wall.   
Finally everything quieted down.   
"Damage report!" Rodimus snapped.   
"We lost some of the paint job, but everything is in the green," Arcee reported after some checking.   
Rodimus breathed a sigh of relief. "Get us back to the Apocalypse. Tell them to get med bay ready for human patients."   
She only nodded.

* * *

Later

Matt Frasier looked into the Cybertronian sky, wondering if he would ever get used to not seeing a real blue but nothing but blackness and millions of stars. It was frightening to see the vast expanse of space but also fascinating.   
"I heard you were leaving today."   
He looked to his left, still up though, and met the clear blue optics of Optimus Prime. The Autobot leader had a new paint job and his banged up looks had been straightened out into his usual smooth surface. Frasier had spent time in med bay himself, getting his wrist and shoulder x-rayed and his bruises treated. Nothing was broken, but his wrist had a hair-line fracture he needed to take care of.   
"Yes. EDC Central called me back. Looks like my job is done."   
Prime's optics lit up in a smile. "And you did a good job. Thank you for your help."   
Matt shrugged with his good shoulder. "All part of the service."   
The Autobot leader nodded slowly. "And it helped to insure the survival of the conference attendees."   
"Not all of them."   
"I know."   
Frasier looked at the incoming ship. He knew it was Mainframe. "That's my taxi, Optimus Prime. It was a pleasure." With that he walked off.   
Optimus watched him board the sleek ship and then take off. Then he walked back into West Central. There was still a conference to finish. He had to smile again as he thought of it. Earth had tried to call it off as unsuccessful, to be rescheduled, but several delegates had suddenly stood up and demanded it to be finished. Among them were General Brighton, Hank Marshall and, surprisingly, Oliver McKnight. Earth had yielded to their combined veto and they had changed conference centers from the now destroyed freighter to West Central on Cybertron. No one had objected.   
Prime wondered what would come from this meeting. He had high hopes. Maybe too high?

* * *

Rodimus Prime watched the ships with the diplomats leave. Four strenuous days lay behind them. Four days with arguing, debating, discussing, accusing and finally winding down. All in all it had been more successful than he would have believed and though he had not taken part, he knew every tiny detail. Most of the delegates had come away from the near-death experience changed from their old views. Many had opened their eyes to what the ACL was and what they were trying to do. It had helped, though Rodimus wished it would not have taken these extreme measures. He knew that expecting Earth to change their view of Cybertron completely now was too much to hope for, but the first step had been done.   
The surviving terrorists had been arrested and were currently in prison, awaiting their trials. This time there would be trials.   
Rodimus smiled dimly as he saw the shuttle disappear into the night sky.

*

Somewhere else, in a pub in the twin town of Strata-Mainframe, Kenneth Marshall was sharing a drink with Daniel Witwicky. He had voted to stay a few extra days in a hotel in town and Daniel had grabbed the opportunity to get to know the man better. He was quite a fascinating person.   
"Well, it looks like the future is not that dark after all," Marshall now said and smiled.   
Daniel chuckled. "It will be a long way still."   
"But we finally made the fist step."   
"True." He sipped at his beer.   
"It will take an ever longer time to eradicate all the damage the ACL has done and we can only now start to guess where they have their fingers in." Marshall sighed. "I think the two of us might not see the end of this, but we were participants of the beginning."   
Daniel nodded. Yes, it would take a long time and maybe his daughter would one day be able to set foot back on Earth again without fearing to be called a 'collaborator' or worse. Daniel had vowed never to return to a place where he was in danger of getting killed because of the friends and allies he chose.   
"Yes, we were. Let's hope it won't get stuck again," he now said seriously.   
Marshall raised his glass. "I drink to that."

* * *

Cathy Lee Russell returned to her quarters and fell down on the couch, feeling dead. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The last days had been even worse than the hours aboard the Praddoxx. And now that this disaster was over, she finally had the time to think. Earth knew about her Interface now. It was no longer a secret and somehow she felt no remorse. She stood behind what had happened to her and in the end it had saved all their lives. Acceptance had settled in between now and the last few months.   
She smiled.   
Looking at the ceiling, Cathy wondered what to do now. She would have to resign before they fired her. Resignation always looked better on paper than being kicked out of service in dishonor. And she had no illusions about it: it would be in dishonor. She had a few job options open now, but none was all that thrilling or demanded her talents. Well, she'd see what would arise in the future, taking one now and pay the rent with it.   
<<Cathy....>>   
<<Don't even start!>>   
F/X sighed and she knew he was shaking his head. She was quite set on this. No charities because she was Interfaced.   
<<Okay>>   
She knew he wouldn't stop until she saw that she didn't need to earn money and pay rent, but she'd fight this as long as she could.   
Suddenly her mail box beeped softly, indicating an incoming message. She rose with a groan and went over to the desk. She raised both eyebrows when she discovered that it was a long-distance mail. Curious, she looked at the address of the sender .... and froze.   
<<Cathy?>>   
.....   
<<Cathy!>>   
....   
<<Catherine!">>   
She snapped out of it, blinking, sitting down. <<I ..I'm fine...>> She inhaled deeply.   
<<What's wrong?>>   
<<Nothing>>   
 <<Try again>>   
She stared at the screen, still unable to open the mail.   
<<Cathy?>>   
Sender: Paul Russell, Des Peres/Missouri.   
Her hands were starting to shake.   
How....?   
She reached out, her hand hovering over the 'delete' command.   
A thousand thoughts whirled in her mind. 'Do it!' 'No, don't!' 'Do it!' 'But....'   
She deleted the mail.   
<<It was nothing>> she whispered. <<I'm just tired>>   
Cathy Lee Russell shut down the screen and walked off to the bathroom.

* * *

Light years away, on the planet Earth in Des Peres, Missouri, Paul Russell did the same.   
No reply.   
He had not expected one.   
Still, it hurt. Closing his eyes, the old man sank back in his chair.


End file.
